


The Fear

by AvieAwesome



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28029954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvieAwesome/pseuds/AvieAwesome
Summary: Vegeta confronts one of his greatest fears: his son discovers his monstrous past.
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, Trunks Briefs & Vegeta, Trunks Briefs & Vegeta (Dragon Ball)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 93





	The Fear

He had grown accustomed to fear.  
  
In the PTO, fear had kept him alive. He had rarely felt it invading other worlds. Why would he? He was given a detailed plan with little room for deviation from his superior officers, and as he became older, he devised these operations himself. There were rarely surprises on these missions because the life forms they eradicated were so much weaker than he was. His team was expected to crush and destroy lesser life forms quickly and efficiently. And he was good at it. He was a powerful, confident (overly so) killer. Battle and violence gave him adrenaline, and it was familiar to him. It made him feel truly alive. No, fear was reserved for unexpected alarms blaring in the mess hall, warning of an unexpected, imminent attack. Fear was a sensor on his pod beginning to die in deep space. Fear was the unknown, the unplanned. Fear helped him focus on his tasks, driving him to unfamiliar caution.  
  
And at 3:27 on a peaceful Wednesday afternoon, the fear blindsided him.  
  
He was alone, in the quiet forest that surrounded West City. There were benefits to solitary training. It allowed focus and introspection, further honing of his already keen senses. He heard his cell phone chirp, letting him know he had received a text message, but he ignored it for a moment. He used to keep his phone home to prevent distractions, but Bulma had pointed out that not keeping it with him defeated the purpose of even having it. And if he was going to be distracted, he admitted that it was best to be distracted by family. He knew the message was either from Bulma _(“Where are you? Get your cute Saiyan ass home!”_ ) or Kakarot (“ _Hey buddy! Train tomorrow?_ _:)_ ”), and he needed his space today. But the chirps kept coming, and with a huff, he dug into his nearby gym bag. He wiped his sweaty face and hands with his towel, then begin swiping through his messages.  
  
Unexpected fear clenched at his heart as he read Bulma’s text: _You need to come home. Trunks knows. Come on, I need you to handle this conversation. He wants to speak with you, not me.  
_  
Fuck. He knows.  
  
Vegeta held the phone in his calloused hand for a moment, staring at the screen, willing the words to change. This conversation should have happened years ago. Bulma had harassed him for years: _He’s going to find out eventually from someone. It needs to be from you._ Vegeta knew she was correct. She understood relationships with a clarity he had yet to achieve. But Vegeta had enjoyed his son being proud of him. He wasn’t eager to tell him the truth. He had kept shrugging off Bulma and her advice, much to his wife’s irritation. And now, his time has run out.  
  
_Coming home_ , he wrote back. With a deep sigh, he replaced his phone and towel in his bag. (Perhaps a bit slower than usual.) He glanced around the serene forest that surrounded him, the sounds of birds and a nearby creek trickling by. His sensitive ears had grown accustomed to the relative peace of Earth, and he was certain his arrival at home would not be so tranquil. Walking through the woods to the clearing he had initially landed in, he took off towards home.  
  
His flight home was a short one. Bulma preferred he train relatively close to home. She claimed it was to be able to help him if anything happened ( _you almost blow yourself up a few times over a decade ago, and your wife won’t let you forget it_ ) _,_ but Vegeta knew his presence reassured and comforted her. And her presence did the same for him. They were devoted to one another. Years ago, his reliance on his family would have horrified him. Now, it was an undeniable fact of his life - he would do anything to protect his wife and children. And he knew that made him a stronger man.  
  
As he approached his home, he could feel Bulma’s small, distinct chi. His sharp eyes spied her outside, holding little Bulla in her arms. He could sense his wife’s understandable anxiety. Vegeta touched down in their yard and his wife approached, bouncing Bulla nervously. His daughter squealed happily to see him. “Well, at least one of our children still loves their father. How did he find out?”  
  
One hand on her hip, the other around their daughter, Bulma was understandably irked. “This could have been avoided, you know. I hate to say ‘I told you so...’”  
  
“Like hell you do,” Vegeta snapped. “Now tell me what’s going on.”  
  
“Apparently one of his classmates told him. His mother recognized you at Field Day.”  
  
“I told you I shouldn’t have gone to Field Day!”  
  
Bulma signed, sounding like a mother exasperated with her stubborn child. “Vegeta, someone would have recognized you at some point. This was inevitable.”  
  
“Tch. Regardless, the damage is done. Where is he?”  
  
“The garden. Talk this out with him, Vegeta.”  
  
Vegeta dropped his gym bag to the ground and crossed his family’s large estate to the gardens. It was a lovely, slightly breezy day, marred by the anger and hurt he felt coming from his son. He felt Trunks’ emotions long before he saw him. Trunks’ back was to him as he sat on the garden bench his grandmother enjoyed. As an infant, Trunks had spent hours on this bench with Panchy, watching birds fly in the sky and butterflies dancing among the flowers. It was logical for his son to choose a quiet, peaceful place to regain control of his emotions. Unfortunately, judging from the waves of rage emanating from Trunks, his attempt had been unsuccessful.  
  
Vegeta had been in many life-or-death situations. But he had never felt fear like he did looking at his son, disappointed and furious.  
  
He sat next to Trunks, half-expecting his son to tell him to fuck off and leave him alone. But Trunks sat quietly fuming, scowling, his arms crossed (looking very much like his father). “What did your classmate tell you?”  
  
Trunks dug himself defiantly into the bench. “Ori’s mom said she recognized you from years ago. That you and another alien invaded Earth and it was all over the news. She said... you were here to kill all of us.”  
  
“I see.” Vegeta stared at the ground. It was more comfortable than looking at his son, and it didn’t glare at him. “I suppose you want the truth.”  
  
“What do you think?” Trunks snapped.  
  
“Your mother said we have to talk this out, so we’re going to fucking talk this out.”  
  
Trunks’ scowl deepened. “Fine. So talk.”  
  
Vegeta took a deep breath before beginning. “I came here to Earth with another Saiyan to find the Dragon Balls and wish for immortality to defeat Frieza. It wasn’t necessarily to destroy Earth, but I did not shy from violence. We killed many while we were here. I know it was televised. Many saw it.”  
  
“Okay. What happened to the other Saiyan?”  
  
_He practically raised me. He protected me. He taught me what I know about our culture and our people. And I murdered him without a shred of guilt._ “He lost in combat to Kakarot. He was weak. And I killed him.”  
  
“You... you did what?” Trunks looked at his father with horror. “How could you do that?”  
  
Vegeta shrugged uncomfortably. _Because I was a monster._ “I was raised to respect strength and discard weakness. And he was weak.”  
  
“That’s... that’s awful, Dad.”  
  
“Indeed.”  
  
“Why did you want to defeat Frieza so much? Why did you want to be immortal?”  
  
“He controlled my people. We killed and conquered for him. Saiyans exterminated life on planets for Frieza, and the planets would then be sold to the highest bidder for whatever use the buyer saw fit. Our... arrangement with Frieza was precarious at best. My father gave me to him when I was young. I was told if I did what was asked of me, destroyed what I was told to, our people would be safe. And I did. But Frieza still destroyed our planet and killed all of the Saiyans but a handful.”  
  
“He took you from your father?”  
  
_My father gave me to him out of fear, hoping to placate a madman. He gave me up. He left me in the clutches of a sadistic bastard._ “Yes.”  
  
Trunks considered that for a moment. “So he made you do things you didn’t want to do, and you wanted to kill him and get away? That’s why you wanted to be immortal?”  
  
“Don’t misunderstand me. I enjoyed the violence. From a young age, I was taught to kill. I didn’t like being controlled by Frieza. And I wasn’t strong enough to kill him.”  
  
“But you were...”  
  
“Don’t make excuses. Don’t rationalize what I did. Make no mistake - I was a killer. I murdered billions for Frieza. I killed infants nursing at their mother’s breasts. I killed elderly men, unable to walk or move, begging for mercy. I slaughtered them all, without a bit of remorse. So yes, your classmate’s mother was right to be wary of me. Because I was a butcher.”  
  
Trunks was horrified. The anger Vegeta had felt from his son had dissipated, replaced with fear of his own. “You... you’re evil. What did Mom ever see in you?”  
  
The words stabbed him in the heart, a cold burst of pain that took his breath away. Vegeta deserved it and worse, he knew. “She took me in after Namek to live with her. I had nowhere else to go.”  
  
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”  
  
_I enjoyed you being ignorant to the evil of your father. I never wanted you to know that the hands that hold your baby sister so gently massacred billions. Because I was afraid._ “It was in the past. It was irrelevant.”  
  
“Bullshit!” Trunks stood to his feet, looking every bit like Bulma when she was angry with him. “I deserved to know the truth. I was old enough. You lied to me. And Mom did too.” Tears came to Trunks’ eyes and he brushed them away quickly, hoping his father wouldn’t notice. “And now I feel like I don’t even know you.”  
  
“I am not the same person that I used to be.”  
  
“How? How could you have changed that much?”  
  
Vegeta swallowed, his own emotions threatening to spill. “Your mother changed me.”  
  
“You’re lying!”  
  
“I had never loved anyone before your mother. Love was a weakness, something to be used against me. And she was patient. She believed I could be more than a cold-blooded killer. It was not an easy process.” _Well, that’s putting it mildly, isn’t it?_  
  
“And that’s all it took? Do you expect me to believe that?”  
  
“It was you. It was you and your mother.” Vegeta was careful to keep his voice level, despite his son’s wrath. “A weak, helpless baby. And his stubborn, fierce mother.”  
  
Did his son even believe him? Trunks still shook with rage. And Vegeta could understand. He had once been an angry Saiyan teenager, unable to speak about his frustration and aggression for fear of Frieza or his soldiers using it against him. “Your mother wanted us to talk, but your mother is not a Saiyan. We are.” Vegeta stood to his feet, staring down at his son who was becoming taller every day. “Come at me, brat. Let out that anger.”  
  
And he did.  
  
Trunks’ fist swung at his father’s face and Vegeta blocked it with his open hand. “How could you do all of those horrible things? How could you never tell me?” The teenager’s elbow came at his father’s face, and Vegeta dodged, smirking.  
  
“You’re barely trying, boy. You can do better.”  
  
Trunks screamed in rage, turning Super Saiyan in the blink of an eye. He was stronger now, but he was angry, and this made him careless. His leg swung out to connect his foot into Vegeta’s chest and the older Saiyan dodged it easily. Vegeta knocked his son’s leg aside with his arm, knocking Trunks off balance. Trunks stumbled for a breath, rebalancing. And then he came at his father with everything he had. Fists flying, pure anger. Vegeta let his guard down for a brief moment, and Trunks’ fist connected with his father’s face.  
  
When Trunks struck Vegeta, the anger seemed to evaporate from his blue Super Saiyan eyes. Vegeta rubbed his cheek. “Good hit, boy.” He watched Trunks’ hair revert to lavender, his ice-cold blue eyes soften. Trunks hesitated, looking to his father for a return blow that never came. And to Vegeta’s shock, his son wrapped his arms around him and cried.  
  
Vegeta had rarely held Trunks as a child and their few embraces had ceased when Trunks entered his teenaged years. But now his son was clinging to him. Vegeta uneasily put an arm around his son as Trunks’ body was wracked with sobs. Physical contact was still difficult with his son, but hell, he was trying.  
  
“Dad? That’s really not you anymore?” Vegeta could barely understand his son’s muffled words.  
  
“Absolutely not.”  
  
“Would you have given me to Frieza like your father did?”  
  
Vegeta’s grip on his son tightened reassuringly. “Never. I swear to you.”  
  
After a moment, Trunks stepped back, rubbing his puffy pink eyes with his hands. “Thanks. I feel better now.”  
  
Vegeta nodded. “I’m going inside to get a shower.”  
  
“Okay. I’m coming in, too. I have homework.”  
  
The two walked together in a comfortable silence. Their relationship had undeniably changed today. As difficult as the experience had been, his son now knew the truth. He knew what Vegeta had been. And he hoped that, with time, his son would be able to reconcile his perception of Vegeta with what his father used to be.  
  
They reached the door to their home and Vegeta rested his hand on the door handle, hesitating. “I have been afraid many times in my life, Trunks. But today, knowing I had to speak with you about the monster that I was... that was the most fear I have ever felt.”  
  
Trunks put his smaller hand on his father’s, squeezing reassuringly. He didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. Vegeta cleared his throat uncomfortably and pushed the door open. On his way down the hall to his bedroom, he heard his son: “I’ll see you at dinner, Dad.”  
  
After his shower, Vegeta rested, stretched out on his bed. He usually would take the opportunity to read but his mind kept replaying the events of the day. He heard Bulma’s soft footsteps, unsurprised to hear her open their bedroom door and close it behind her.  
  
“Hey, you.”  
  
Vegeta grunted in response.  
  
“How did it go?”  
  
“As well as it could.”  
  
Bulma kicked her shoes off and sat on the edge of their bed. “Mom’s watching Bulla for a minute. We have some time.” She lay down next to her husband, resting her head on his chest. Vegeta wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer to him. “And I’m not even going to ask why I see a bruise growing on your cheek.”  
  
Vegeta still struggled to express his fears. He was taught to shove them aside, never to be used against him. “I was afraid to speak to him today. I was afraid how he would react knowing what I am.”  
  
“Knowing what you _were_ , honey,” Bulma gently corrected him. “Not anymore.”  
  
He became aware that his breathing was slower as he relaxed. She always relaxed him. Bulma’s small body pressed against his, the scent of her filling him, her lithe hands idly tracing circles on his chest. He leaned over and kissed her softly on the top of her head.  
  
He closed his eyes. Today, he had conquered a fear.


End file.
